


The Peacock Tree

by MysticKitten42



Series: Winter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Early Bird 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2020, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Holiday Traditions, M/M, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Peacocks, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticKitten42/pseuds/MysticKitten42
Summary: It’s the most unusual Christmas tree Harry’s ever seen.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Winter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054841
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96
Collections: 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2020





	The Peacock Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 25 Days of Harry and Draco Early Bird Prompt V: Christmas Tree, and the prompt ‘Tradition’ 🎄

“Why are we doing this?” Harry asks, straightening his tie as he frowns at his reflection. He’s been dreading this all day. All week.

Draco comes up behind him and rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder as he meets his eyes in the mirror. “Because I endured the Weasleys last Christmas.”

“You had fun and you know it.”

Draco wraps his arms around Harry. “Because you agreed.”

“And why did I do that?” Harry leans back into the embrace and Draco nips at his neck.

“Because we’re engaged. Because you love me.”

Harry sighs. “Something I’m questioning right about now.”

Draco sucks on the tender spot behind Harry’s earlobe and Harry can’t help but moan. He can feel Draco’s triumphant smirk as he goes pliant in the man’s arms. Which gives Harry an idea.

He turns around, kisses Draco, sucks on his bottom lip and savours the tiny sigh that escapes Draco’s mouth. Harry rolls his hips and Draco groans, low, deep, and pulls Harry tightly against him. Yes, things are going according to plan. If he can just keep Draco distracted for a few hours, then maybe they won’t have to go at all.

“You are pure evil,” Draco sighs. “You know I can’t resist you like this.” He pulls Harry’s shirt out, undoes his trousers, and slides his hand in, teasing him over the fabric of his pants. “You know, I think the whole _Saviour_ business is utter bollocks,” he says while cupping Harry’s. “I think the real reason you were able to defeat the Dark Lord, is simply because you’re more evil.” 

Harry snorts and gets to work on Draco’s flies, the fabric pulled taut over his straining erection. 

Draco gasps as Harry’s hand slides into his pants and wraps around his hard, leaking cock. “Just a quick one,” Draco whispers and casts a wandless spell. Suddenly their trousers and pants are at their ankles, their cocks pressed together. He summons his favourite lube — one he brews himself that warms pleasantly the closer one gets to completion — and slicks them both up.

They kiss feverishly, Draco stroking their cocks together, and Harry pulls back long enough to purr, “You feel so good.” His hands tangle in Draco’s hair and his breath catches as Draco adds a twist over the top. Harry rocks his hips into Draco’s fist, the drag of cock against cock within Draco’s firm grasp feels electric, the pleasure intensified by the warming sensation. It feels so good Harry doesn’t know how he’s still standing — why haven’t they moved to the bed? — but he also doesn’t want to move now that he’s so close. Pleasure coils in his belly and he tries to hold off, to prolong the rapture, but when Draco nips his lip, groaning as he comes, the pain and the added lubrication from Draco’s release push him over the edge. Harry cries out and comes hard, shuddering as Draco holds him tight. They cling to each other as their muscles clench and release. 

When they eventually pull apart, Draco looks wrecked: his skin, deeply flushed; his hair, tousled; his shirt, horribly wrinkled. Harry’s sure he doesn’t look much better. Draco casts _Tergeo_ over them both and Harry summons a bottle of wine, two glasses, and tries to manoeuvre Draco towards the bed for round two.

“Nice try, Potter.” Draco sends the wine and glasses back to the kitchen. “We’re still going.” He gets re-dressed — Harry reluctantly follows his lead — and casts an Ironing Charm over them both. He frowns. “We’d better change.”

“We look fine.”

“To anyone else, but Mother will know. She has sharp eyes. If she were an Animagus, she’d be an eagle.”

They change, Draco straightens Harry’s tie, smooths down his hair, and glamours a love bite. “I liked you better in the other outfit, but this will have to do.”

They head to the kitchen, and Harry stalls in front of the Floo, one hand on either side like a Kneazle trying to avoid a trip to the vet. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s been to the Manor; none of the experiences have been pleasant.

“You’ll be fine, Harry.”

“Your father hates me.”

Draco sighs. “I wish that weren’t true. But my father doesn’t make the decisions anymore. Given his past record, Mother decides everything, as you know, and she is fond of you. Of us. Let’s not keep her waiting.” He folds Harry’s arms inward and pushes him into the fireplace, grabs a pinch of powder, and calls out, “Malfoy Manor, kitchen.”

Harry stumbles out and dusts himself off; Draco does the same but with practised elegance. “Why are we down here?”

“Because I thought you could use a moment to calm down before we encounter my parents.” Draco takes Harry’s hand and urges him forward. “Also, because I want to show you all the trees.”

“The trees?”

“Mother loves Christmas, and decorating, so there’s a Christmas tree in every room, each with a different theme. This one here” — he points to a small tree in the corner, beside the oven — “belongs to the elves. Mother lets them decorate it every year, and they can do so however they like.”

The tree glows warmly, but on closer inspection, Harry realises it’s covered in an assortment of used tea bags, napkin rings and several old socks. It’s perfectly odd, yet it makes Harry feel a little warmer inside.

They go up the back staircase to a large purple room Harry’s never been to before.

“This is the lounge,” Draco says casually. But there is nothing casual about the room; the furnishings are fit for royalty.

The tree blends in with the décor so well that Harry doesn’t see it at first. But once he does, he can’t unsee it. Like the room, it’s decked out in varying hues of lavender, aubergine, plum; covered in ribbons, garlands, and baubles. So much purple. 

“This one’s Mother’s favourite. I call it _The_ _Paris Tree_. She always buys something new for it when she visits.”

Harry steps closer and sees miniature Eiffel towers, Fleur-de-Lis, gilded croissants and baguettes, wine bottles, the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre Pyramid.

The next room is the billiard room. The tree is larger than the one in the lounge and very simply decorated: fairy lights that twinkle and an assortment of picture frame ornaments.

“ _The Ancestor Tree_. One for each member of the Black and Malfoy families.”

Harry moves closer and the first ornament he sees features a tall witch with Draco’s fine platinum locks, a hooked nose, and a constant scowl reminiscent of Lucius. She turns her nose up at Harry. Well, she wouldn’t be the first Malfoy to disapprove. To Harry’s surprise, there is a picture of Sirius. He’s younger than when Harry knew him, his hair longer, and he looks less weighed down upon. He winks and Harry feels a moment of longing. He really wishes his godfather could be at their wedding. 

Harry cringes when he sees Bellatrix’s menacing picture on the opposite side of the tree. Draco frowns and turns the photo around. He ushers Harry out, down the hallway, and into the main entrance with the double staircase.

The tree in the centre is incredible, clearly installed by magical means — most likely magically enhanced as well — there is no other explanation for its sheer size and complete perfection. The tree stands five floors tall, the star at the top grazing the ceiling, elegantly decorated in silver baubles and Slytherin green bows. 

Draco purposely avoids the ballroom and takes Harry to the music room, which has a cosy feel and is less formal than the lounge. Draco informs him that the tree is classically themed with Rococo elements. All Harry can see are an excessive number of naked angels and harps.

They visit many rooms with trees ranging from whimsical to verging on gaudy: a tasty gingerbread tree, one magnificently bejewelled, another weighed down by Goblin gold, and a tree with a perpetual snowfall enchantment that reminds Harry of the inside of a snow globe. 

Draco places his hand on the small of Harry’s back and guides him down the hallway and into the conservatory. He has an enormous smile on his face, which Harry can’t help but return. “This is _The Peacock Tree_ ,” he announces.

The tree is tall with pure white branches, every ornament white or silver. Even the popcorn garlands are snowy-white rather than buttery-yellow. Harry squints at the tree, confused. He scours the branches. “Why is it called that? I don’t see any peacocks.”

Draco wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and pulls him closer, he speaks quietly beside Harry’s ear. “When I was little, perhaps seven or eight, Mother said I could decorate this tree any way I wanted. It’s always been the purest white, to represent our Pureblood lineage” — Harry turns his head and rolls his eyes, Draco smiles fondly back — “and I wanted to keep with the theme. I wished and wished, with all my power, and, in what Mother calls _an incredible feat of accidental magic_ , I made all our albino peacocks the size of mice. They flocked into the tree and made the most delightful living ornaments. At first Mother did not approve, but I reminded her she did say I could decorate how I wanted. So, she let them stay until the New Year, provided we didn’t tell Father. After that, it became a tradition.”

Harry grins. “That’s revoltingly adorable.” He squints at the tree, eyes gliding over each branch.

“They’re not there, darling.”

“Oh,” Harry says, his disappointment obvious.

“I wanted to save the best part for when we were together.” Draco flicks his wand. The double doors open; the Malfoy peacocks file into the room and gather by the tree. They peck at the rug, the furniture, Harry’s shoelace. A few call out, and one fans its tail feathers. 

Draco flourishes his wand and casts, “ _Reducio_.”

The peacocks shrink and one-by-one leap into the tree. They scurry about the branches and peck at the popcorn garlands. Draco laughs a hearty laugh. “It’s warmer in here, and they have plenty of food. I think they like it.” The peacocks arrange themselves, evenly spaced as proper ornaments should be, and fan out their tail feathers. To Harry’s delight, they rattle their feathers in unison. They make such an unusual sound, and the way the light reflects off their white, iridescent plumage is breathtaking. 

Harry’s heart, full of love and joy, flutters. He turns and pulls Draco in for a proper kiss. “They’re gorgeous,” he says.

“You’re gorgeous,” Draco replies and dives back in.

They kiss deeply, lost in the moment, savouring the feel of lips and tongue, tasting each other. Harry’s tension melts away; he forgets about everything else until a throat clears in the doorway and they break apart.

Narcissa, elegantly dressed in a blue gown, eyes the couple, clearly amused. “It’s lovely to see you, Harry.” She nods at her son. “If you’re quite finished,” she says, her eyes twinkling, “dinner awaits.”

**Author's Note:**

> The tumblr post for this fic (with prompt pictures) is [here](https://mystickitten42.tumblr.com/post/638048192187023360/the-peacock-tree).


End file.
